Colliding of Two Forces
by Straying Life
Summary: Danny Fenton gets accepted to Hogwarts at an unsafe time. Voldemort is rising, and it's risky enough with The Chosen One there. Danny and Harry are entwined in an unstable spell, and, worse, everyone is playing into Voldemort's trap and no one knows it.
1. Safety Long Gone

Hello. You have reached Colliding of Two Forces. Drop a review and I'll get back to you when I can. Leave your email if you want even! I'm not here right now, so enjoy! BEEEEEEP!

How'd you like it? Please, do it. I won't update until I get 5 reviews with CRITIQUE IN IT. Flame me, I'll count it as a review. I check my hits, I'm not stupid and I know I've gotten 62 hits on the original but only 14 reviews. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Now, I think you'll like this one better because I'll be screwing with this one. Not only is this one going to be redone much better with less plothole-ness, but also…. It takes place now in the time of Half-Blood Prince!

SPOILERS GALORE!

Now….I unfortunately don't own HP or DP but I've kidnapped Butch and Mackenzie (I pity you if you don't know who she is. If you don't though, it's JK's newborn baby. COME ON, the sixth book was dedicated to her!) and I am holding ransom. Hopefully I will get the both of them. Heh. No, none of this really happened. Sorry.

SUMMARY: Now that Voldemort has risen, this is a dangerous time for anything, especially enrolling a new student. Danny Fenton has been enrolled in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and no one trusts him. At the same time, some horrible twisted thing is messing with Harry's and Danny's bodies. The worst thing is, no one knows that everyone is playing right into Voldemort's trap, and Harry and Danny are in the middle of it. HBP SPOILERS.

I know, it's long, but it covers the summary. Bold because half of this is excluded in the real summary. Heh. Everything has changed here, but some things have stayed from the original. Not many. Hope you like this LaBOBuren, it's for you!

Have fun! And don't forget: Hello. You have reached Colliding of Two Forces. Drop a review and I'll get back to you when I can. Leave your email if you want even! I'm not here right now, so enjoy! BEEEEEEP!

Chapter 1

"Safety Long Gone"

Harry Potter sat in a chair by the frost-covered window. His mouth open, his eyes closed, and his glasses askew, his face slid down a considerable margin of an inch. His room was a mess; with his dresser drawers out and his wardrobe doors wide open; clothes all over the floor; and books, ink bottles, quills, and parchment lay all over the broken floor and the unmade bed. The only area that seemed neat was a cage perched between his bed and window holding a sleeping snowy owl. His desk was considerably neat, but it was covered with a piece of parchment and a long wooden stick and several newspapers.

The long wooden stick seemed too straight and too shiny to be taken from the ground. No, it was an official stick for something, anything at all. At eleven inches, it shone in the light given off by the streetlights. Right next to it, a piece of parchment with practically nothing on it lay flat on his desk. Harry had read through it so many times that the same letter, which had been taken from a tawny owl's leg, rolled up into something thinner than a pen, that the once curled paper now was as flat as printer paper. The newspapers were strewn everywhere on the desk, covered by the parchment and stick. One had the heading _Harry Potter: The Chosen One? _Another, overlapping with the first, said _Scrimgeour Succeeds Fudge. _Yet another bore the title _Ministry Guarantees Students' Safety_.

All of a sudden, a streetlight went out. Harry sat upright in his desk chair, correcting his glasses, staring outside the cloudy glass wide-eyed. The fog was thick and the weather was scarily cold for July, since frost had been long since forming on his window.

Another light went out, and then another. Harry gave a quick gulp and then began gathering all his things. He didn't forget, but he wasn't too sure of it.

Harry scrambled to his desk to look at the letter. In thin, slanted writing was a letter:

_Dear Harry,_

_If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive this coming Friday, July 23rd, at eleven P.M. to escort you to the Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays. _

_If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to the Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you._

_Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday,_

_I am yours most sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

He grabbed a packet out of his trunk and began dumping all his unfolded, inside-out articles of clothing and uniforms. He took a quick glance at the packet:

— _Issued on behalf of —_

The Ministry of Magic 

_Protecting you home and family against_

_Dark forces_

_The wizarding community is currently under threat from an organization calling itself the Death Eaters. Observing the following simple security guidelines will help protect you, your family, and your home from attack._

_You are advised not to leave the house alone._

_Particular care should be taken during the hours of darkness. Whenever possible, arrange to complete journeys before night has fallen._

_Review the security arrangements around your house, making sure that all family members are aware of emergency measures such as Shield and Disillusionment Charms and, in the case of underage family members, Side-Along-Apparition. _

_Agree on security questions with close friends and family so as to detect Death Eaters masquerading as others by use of the Polyjuice Potion (see page 2). _

_Should you feel that a family member, colleague, friend, or neighbor is acting in a strange manner, contact the Magical Law Enforcement Squad at once. They may have been put under the Imperius Curse (see page 4). _

_Should the Dark Mark appear over any dwelling place or other building, DO NOT ENTER, but contact the Auror office immediately._

_Unconfirmed sightings suggest that the Death Eaters **may** now be using Inferi (see page 10). Any sightings of an Inferius, or encounter with same, should be reported to the Ministry IMMEDIATELY._

One minute to midnight. Harry dumped all his spellbooks, ink bottles, parchment, and quills along with newspapers, wand into his trunk and closed it, attaching the owl cage to it. He sighed, tripping over his desk chair and landing on the floor.

At that precise moment, the doorbell rang, shortly followed by his Uncle Vernon yelling, "Who the blazes is calling at this time of night?"

Oh, no. He had completely forgotten to warn the Dursley's about Dumbledore's possible arrival. Two words floated in his head: Dead meat. Feeling both fear and suppressing an urge to burst in laughter, he pulled open his door and stared into the living room.

"Good evening. You must be Mr. Dursley. I daresay Harry has told you I would be coming for him?" said Dumbledore calmly.

Harry ran down the stairs two at a time, coming to an abrupt halt several steps from the bottom, as long experience had taught him to remain out of arm's reach of his uncle whenever possible. There in the doorway stood a tall, thin man with waist-length silver hair and beard. Half-moon spectacles were perched on his crooked nose, and he was wearing a long black traveling cloak and a pointed hat. Vernon Dursley, whose mustache was quite as bushy as Dumbledore's, though black, and who was wearing a puce dressing gown, was staring at the visitor as though he could not believe his tiny eyes.

"Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, Harry did not warn you that I was coming," said Dumbledore pleasantly. "However, let us assume that you have invited me warmly into your house. It is unwise to linger overlong on doorsteps in these troubled times."

He stepped smartly over the threshold and closed the front door behind him.

"It is a long time since my last visit," said Dumbledore, peering down his crooked nose at Uncle Vernon. "I must say, your agapanthus are flourishing."

Vernon Dursley said nothing at all. Harry did not doubt that speech would return to him and soon—the vein pulsing in his uncle's temple was reaching danger point—but something about Dumbledore seemed to have robbed him temporarily of breath. It might have been the blatant wizardishness of his appearance, but it might, too, have been that even Uncle Vernon could sense that here was a man whom it would be very difficult to bully.

"Ah, good evening, Harry," said Dumbledore, looking up at him through his half-moon spectacles with a most satisfied expression. "Excellent, excellent."

These words seemed to rouse Uncle Vernon. It was clear that as far as he was concerned, any man who could look at Harry and say "excellent" was a man with whom he could never see eye to eye.

"I don't mean to be rude—" he began, in a tone that threatened rudeness in every syllable.

"—yet, sadly, accidental rudeness occurs alarmingly often," Dumbledore finished the sentence gravely, "Best to say nothing at all, my dear man. Ah, and this must be Petunia."

The kitchen door had opened, and there stood Harry's aunt, wearing rubber gloves and a housecoat over her nightdress, clearly halfway through her usual pre-bedtime wipe-down of all the kitchen surfaces. Her rather horsey face registered with nothing but shock.

"Albus Dumbledore," said Dumbledore, when Uncle Vernon failed to effect an introduction. "We have corresponded, of course." Harry thought this an odd way of reminding Aunt Petunia that he had once sent her an exploding letter, but Aunt Petunia did not challenge the term. "And this must be your son, Dudley?"

Dudley had that moment peered round the living room door. His large, blond head rising out of the stripy collar of his pajamas looked oddly disembodied, his mouth gaping in astonishment and fear. Dumbledore waited a moment or two, apparently to see whether any of the Dursleys were going to say anything, but as the silence stretched on he smiled.

"Shall we assume that you have invited me into your sitting room?"

Dudley scrambled out of the way as Dumbledore passed him. Harry jumped the last few stairs and followed Dumbledore, who had settled himself in the armchair nearest the fire and was taking in the surrounding with an expression of benign interest. He looked quite extraordinarily out of place.

"Aren't—aren't we leaving, sir?" Harry asked anxiously.

"Yes, indeed we are, but there are a few matters we need to discuss first," said Dumbledore. "And I would prefer not to do so in the open. We shall trespass upon your aunt and uncle's hospitality only a little longer."

"You will, will you?"

Vernon Dursley had entered the room, Petunia at his shoulder, and Dudley skulking behind them both.

"Yes," said Dumbledore simply, "I shall."

He drew his wand so rapidly that Harry barely saw it; with a casual flick, the sofa zoomed forward and knocked the knees out from under all three of the Dursleys so that they collapsed upon it in a heap. Another flick of the wand and the sofa zoomed back to its original position.

"We may as well be comfortable," said Dumbledore pleasantly. As he replaced his wand in his pocket, Harry saw that his hand was blackened and shriveled; it looked as though his flesh had been burned away.

"Sir—what happened to your—?"

"Later, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Please sit down."

Harry took the remaining armchair, choosing not to look at the Dursleys, who seemed stunned into silence.

"I would assume that you were going to offer me refreshments," Dumbledore said to Uncle Vernon, "but the evidence so far suggests that that would be optimistic to the point of foolishness."

A third twitch of the wand, and a dusty bottle and five glasses appeared in midair. The bottle tipped and poured a generous measure of honey-colored liquid into each of the glasses, which then floated to each person in the room.

"Madam Rosmerta's finest oak-matured mead," said Dumbledore, raising his glass to Harry, who caught hold of his own and sipped. He had never tasted anything like it before, but enjoyed it immensely. The Dursleys, after quick, scared looks at one another, tried to ignore their glasses completely, a difficult feat, as they were nudging then gently on the sides of their heads. Harry could not suppress a suspicion that Dumbledore was rather enjoying himself.

"Well, Harry," said Dumbledore, turning toward him, "a difficulty has arisen which I hope you will be able to solve for us. By _us_ I mean the Order of the Phoenix. But first of all I must tell you that Sirius's will was discovered a week ago and that he left you everything he owned."

Over on the sofa, Uncle Vernon's head turned, but Harry did not look at him, nor could he think of anything to say except, "Oh. Right."

"This is, in the main, fairly straightforward," Dumbledore went on. "You add a reasonable amount of gold to your account at Gringotts, and you inherit all of Sirius's personal possessions. The slightly problematic part of the legacy—"

"His godfather's dead?" said Uncle Vernon loudly from the sofa. Dumbledore and Harry both turned to look at him. The glass of mead was now knocking quite insistently on the side of Vernon's head; he attempted to beat it away. "He's dead? His godfather?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore. He did not ask Harry why he had not confided in the Dursleys. "Our problem," he continued to Harry, as if there had been no interruption, "is that Sirius also left you number twelve, Grimmauld Place."

"He's been left a house?" said Uncle Vernon greedily, his small eyes narrowing, but nobody answered him.

"You can keep using it as headquarters," said Harry. "I don't care. You can have it, I don't really want it." Harry never wanted to set foot in number twelve, Grimmauld Place again if he could help it. He thought he would be haunted forever by the memory of Sirius prowling its dark musty rooms alone, imprisoned within the place he had wanted so desperately to leave.

"That is generous," said Dumbledore. "We have, however, vacated the building temporarily."

"Why?"

"Well, said Dumbledore, ignoring the mutterings of Uncle Vernon, who was now being rapped smartly over the head by the persisten glass of mead. "Black family tradition decreed that the house was handed down the direct line, to the next male with the name of 'Black.' Sirius was the very last of the line as his younger brother, Regulus, predeceased him and both were childless. While it is nevertheless possible that some spell or enchantment has been set upon the place to ensure that it cannot be owned by anyone other than a pureblood."

A vivid image of the shrieking, spitting portrait of Sirius's mother that hung in the hall of number twelve, Grimmauld Place flashed into Harry's mind. "I bet there has," he said.

"Quite," said Dumbledore. "And if such an enchantment exists, then the ownership of the house is most likely to pass to the eldest of Sirius's living relatives, which would mean his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange."

Without realizing what he was doing, Harry sprang to his feet. Bellatrix Lestrange, Sirius's killer, inherit his house?

"No," he said.

"Well, obviously we would prefer that she didn't get it either," said Dumbledore calmly. "The situation is fraught with complications. We do not know whether the enchantments we ourselves have placed upon it, for example, making it Unplottable, will hold now that ownership has passed from Sirius's hands. It might be that Bellatrix will arrive on the doorstep at any moment. Naturally we had to move out until such time as we have clarified the position."

"But how are you going to find out if I'm allowed to won it?"

"Fortunately," said Dumbledore, "there is a simple test."

He placed his empty glass on a small table beside his chair, but before he could do anything else, Uncle Vernon shouted, "_Will you get these ruddy things off us?" _

Harry looked around; all three Dursleys were cowering with their arms over their heads as their glasses bounced up and down on their skulls, their contents flying everywhere.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Dumbledore politely, and he raised his wand again. All three glasses vanished. "But it would have been better manners to drink it, you know."

It looked as though Uncle Vernon was bursting with any number of unpleasant retorts, but he merely shrank back into the cushions with Aunt Petunia and Dudley and said nothing, keeping his small piggy eyes on Dumbledore's wand.

"You see," Dumbledore said, turning back to Harry and again speaking as though Uncle Vernon had not uttered, "if you have indeed inherited the house, you have also inherited—"

He flicked his wand for a fifth time. There was a loud crack and a house-elf appeared, with a snout for a nose, giant bat's ears, and enormous bloodshot eyes, crouching on the Dursleys' shag carpet and covered in grimy rags. Aunt Petunia let out a hair-raising shriek; nothing this filthy had entered her house in living memory. Dudley drew his large, bare, pink feet off the floor and sat with them raised almost above his head, as though he thought the creature might run up his pajama trousers, and Uncle Vernon bellowed, "What the _hell_ is that?"

"Kreacher," finished Dumbledore.

"Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't!" croaked the house-elf, quite as loudly as Uncle Vernon, stamping his long gnarled feet and pulling his ears. "Kreacher belongs to Miss Bellatrix, oh yes, Kreacher belongs to the Blacks, Kreacher wants his new mistress, Kreacher won't go to the Potter brat, Kreacher won't, won't, won't—"

"As you can see, Harry," said Dumbledore loudly, over Kreacher's continued croaks of "won't, won't, won't," "Kreacher is showing a certain reluctance to pass into your ownership."

"I don't care," said Harry again, looking with disgust at the writhing, stamping house-elf. "I don't want him."

"_Won't, won't, won't, won't—" _

"You would prefer him to pass into the ownership of Bellatrix Lestrange? Bearing in mind that he has lived at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix for the past year?"

"_Won't, won't, won't, won't—"_

Harry stared at Dumbledore. He knew that Kreacher could not be permitted to go and live with Bellatrix Lestrange, but the idea of owning him, of having responsibility for the creature that had betrayed Sirius, was repugnant.

"Give him an order," said Dumbledore, "If he has passed into your ownership, he will have to obey. If not, then we shall have to think of some other means of keeping him from his rightful mistress."

"_Won't, won't, won't, WON'T!"_

Kreacher's voice had risen to a scream. Harry could think of nothing to say, except, "Kreacher, shut up!"

It looked for a moment as though Kreacher was going to choke. He grabbed his throat, his mouth still working furiously, his eyes bulging. After a few seconds of frantic gulping, he threw himself face forward on to the carpet (Aunt Petunia whimpered) and beat the floor with his ands and feet, giving himself over to a violent but entirely silent, tantrum.

"Well, that simplifies matters," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "It seems that Sirius knew what he was doing. You are the rightful owner of number twelve, Grimmauld Place and of Kreacher."

"Do I—do I have to keep him with me?" Harry asked, aghast, as Kreacher thrashed around at his feet.

"Not if you don't want to," said Dumbledore. "If I might make a suggestion, you could send him to Hogwarts to work in the kitchen there. In that way, the other house-elves could keep an eye on him."

"Yeah," said Harry in relief, "yeah, I'll do that. Er—Kreacher—I want you to go to Hogwarts and work in the kitchens there with the other house-elves."

Kreacher who was now lying flat on his back with his arms and legs in the air, gave Harry one upside-down look of deepest loathing and, with another loud crack, vanished.

"Good," said Dumbledore. "There is also the matter of the hippogriff, Buckbeak. Hagrid has been looking after him since Sirius died, but Buckbeak is yours now, so if you would prefer to make different arrangements—"

"No," Harry said at once, "he can stay with Hagrid. I think Buckbeak would prefer that."

"Hagrid will be delighted," said Dumbledore, smiling. "He was thrilled to see Buckbeak again. Incidentally, we have decided, in the interests of Buckbeak's safety, to rechristen him 'Witherwings' for the time being, though I doubt that the Ministry would ever guess he is the hippogriff once sentenced to death. Now, Harry, is your trunk packed?"

"Pretty much…" said Harry quietly.

"Alright then, just one last thing, then." And Dumbledore turned to the Dursleys once more.

"As you will no doubt be aware, Harry comes of age in a year's time—"

"No," said Aunt Petunia, speaking for the first time since Dumbledore's arrival.

"I'm sorry?" said Dumbledore politely.

"No, he doesn't. He's a month younger than Dudley, and Dudders doesn't turn eighteen until the year after next."

"Ah," said Dumbledore pleasantly, "but in the Wizarding world, we come of age at seventeen."

Uncle Vernon muttered, "Preposterous," but Dumbledore ignored him.

"Now, as you already know, the wizard called Lord Voldemort has returned to this country. The Wizarding community is currently under a state of open warfare. Harry, whom Lord Voldemort has already attempted to kill on a number of occasions, is in even greater danger now than the day when I left him upon your doorstep fifteen years ago, with a letter explaining about his parents' murder and expressing the hope that you would care for him as though he were your own."

Dumbledore paused, and although his voice remained light and calm, and he gave no obvious sign of anger, Harry felt a kind of chill emanating from him and noticed that the Dursleys drew very slightly closer together.

"You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect and often cruelty at your hands. The best that can be said is that he has at least escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy sitting between you."

Both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked around instinctively, as though expecting to see someone other than Dudley squeezed between them.

"Us—mistreat Dudders? What d'you—?" began Uncle Vernon furiously, but Dumbledore raised his finger for silence, a silence which fell as though he had struck Uncle Vernon dumb.

"The magic I evoked fifteen years ago means that Harry has powerful protection while he can still call this house 'home.' However miserable he has been here, however unwelcome, however badly treated, you have at least, grudgingly, allowed him houseroom. This magic will cease to operate the moment that Harry turns seventeen; in other words, at the moment he becomes a man. I ask only this: that you allow Harry to return once more to this house, before his seventeenth birthday, which will ensure that the protection continues until that time."

None of the Dursleys said anything. Dudley was frowning slightly, as though he was still trying to work out when he had ever been mistreated. Uncle Vernon looked as though he had something stuck in his throat; Aunt Petunia, however, was oddly flushed.

"Well, Harry…time for us to be off," said Dumbledore at last, standing up and straightening his long black cloak. "Until we meet again," he said to the Dursleys, who looked as though that moment could wait forever as far as they were concerned, and after doffing his hat, he swept from the room.

"Bye," said Harry hastily to the Dursleys, and followed Dumbledore, who paused beside Harry's truck, which had been carried down a few minutes ago, upon which Hedwig's cage was perch. The pair strode out the door, closing it behind them, leaving the Dursleys frozen with shock on the couch.

A young boy of age fifteen lay on his bed, messy black hair obscuring his vision. Ice blue eyes shut closed as he pressed the play button on his CD, playing songs like The Dark of the Matinee (Franz Ferdinand), Prosthetic Head (Green Day), Predictable (Good Charlotte), and Thank You For the Venom (My Chemical Romance). A special mix of all the bands he liked. Most people would say that these bands and songs would not soothe someone, but it depends on one's musical tastes. For instance, for this youth in particular, My Chemical Romance was the most soothing.

As the music blared through his headphones, he heard a faint crack of the door closing. His eyes snapped open. The boy, wearing black jeans, spiked black boots, a spiked bracelet, and a navy shirt, stopped the CD and scrambled downstairs, where his bright sister and parents stood, peering over at the mail held in his father's hand. The boy snatched the pile.

"Danny!" said his father warningly.

"What?" complained Danny. "I'm expecting a very important piece of mail. And I would prefer you didn't see it." Seeing the horrified expressions on his parents' faces, he hastily added, "But don't worry, I'm not planning to rape anybody or something like that. It's just a—just a letter from Tucker about something you really don't want to know about. Basically, you'll be questioning everything you know if you read it." The letter in point was a letter from Tucker about a huge team of ghosts planning on his annihilation. He scanned the mail, finding a large envelope addressed to him, and right underneath it, he found, was a yellowing letter, the envelope addressed to him in a scary way. It was sealed with a purple seal wax, carved in with a lion, a serpent, a badger, and an eagle all surrounding an _H._ In emerald green ink, it read:

_Mr. D. Fenton_

_The Room to the Left, Second Floor_

_36 Park Avenue_

_Amity Park_

_Virginia_

Eyes large, Danny's father grabbed the envelope back, hands trembling when he saw the wax.

"M-Maddie…" he said. "MADDIE!"

Danny's mother rushed forward and leaned against her father when she saw what it was.

"Oh…Jack…What do we do?" she whispered.

"Get rid of it," he replied, angrily tossing it over his shoulder.

"That's my mail, damn it!" said Danny furiously; he didn't care if it had anthrax or something. It was his mail, and apparently it was a big deal!

Danny's red-haired sister, Jazz caught the envelope as Danny stormed back up the stairs to his room.

_How could they know Danny's room? Well, it's probably a stalker, best burn it. _Jazz tossed the letter into the fire.

Danny, now in his room, playing _You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison _on his CD player set to make a plan to get that letter. First thing he'd do is check the mail in the morning, since the sender might be persistent; one doesn't find out where one sleeps and just gives up after one letter. If that didn't work, he decided, he would check the fire if the letter was in anyway still intact. Probably not, but Danny was praying for the former. However, he knew there was no such thing as an angel; he had experience with the afterlife.

The very next morning, Danny awoke at six o'clock sharp to the sound of his alarm clock, announcing the date from the radio:

"Well, that was a new song by Weezer, Beverly Hills. Today is July 16th and who is loving it?"

"My birthday's in two weeks!" murmured Danny, willing himself into his ghost form. Turning intangible, he flew out the door and checked the mailbox carefully. Yep, the mail was there.

Danny took it out and checked for his letter. Bills, Dad got fired, Mom got the Nobel Prize, blah, blah, blah, AH! There was the large, yellowing letter addressed to him in the same color ink, closed with the same exact seal. He clutched it and carefully dropped the rest back in the mailbox. He flew back up to his room and finally became visible again. Turning back to a human, he carefully opened the envelope.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

_of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)_

Dear Mr. Fenton,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

You have shown no signs of magic in your blood until age fourteen, and to be accepted at Hogwarts for your first year, you must show signs of magic before or on your eleventh birthday. But we have reason to believe you have wizarding blood. Because of your age and how well we know you can control your powers, we have placed you right in your sixth year.

Term begins on September first. We await your owl by no later than July thirty-first.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

_Deputy Headmistress_

Danny didn't believe it; since when was he part WIZARD? He was part ghost! He flipped open the notice to a packet of supplies.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

_of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Uniform

Sixth-year students will require:

Three sets of plain work robes (black)

One plain pointed hat (black) for daywear

One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.

Course Books

Books will be listed in a later owl.

Other Equipment

1 wand

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

The above supplies and supplies listed in a later owl can be bought in Diagon Alley, London.

Danny was in disbelief, but it didn't last long, as the loud alarm clock in his parents' room, the one next over, went off, sounding also in his room. Sighing, he went intangible once more, as he heard an argument about him start up. He flew through the wall and spied.

"Jack, how could this have happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, this letter was supposed to come when he was eleven. How did it come when he was fifteen?"

"Maddie, I really don't know. I've asked my second cousin about it before—"

"You mean that James Potter?"

"Yes, before he was brutally murdered."

"Ah."

"Well, he said that if a person gives off extreme abilities, even after eleven years old, that the school will admit them in the needed year anyway."

"Yes, but how did it get into him?"

"I don't know, maybe it was James, chances are it was, because no other blood relative of ours has it, other than Harry."

"His son?"

"Yes."

"Do we let him go?"

"Good question. Well, by seventeen, he'll be of age and out of school, so I'd say yes."

"Why?"

"Think about it! He can help us ghost hunting. I've seen James doing it before, he can freeze things!"

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"But doesn't he need supplies?"

"Yes."

"We don't have the money, Jack…"

"No, they have their own currency."

"But we don't have that kind of money either."

"No, but Harry was left a fortune. I'm sure he'll be allowed some of it since they're blood relatives."

"Alright. But isn't it a London school?"

"Yes."

"How will he get there?"

"We'll find a way, Maddie, we'll find a way."

Danny sighed, going back through the wall into his own room and changing back. Well, there's a pile of information. For the first time in years, Danny looked at his right wrist. He had received a scar in a car accident, but oddly enough, it was shaped like a raindrop.

"Interesting scar, isn't it?" said a deep voice. Danny wasn't startled; he was around things that go bump in the night too long to be scared of something like that.

"Hi," said Danny, slowly turning around. There was an old man in violet robes and a violet pointed hat, wearing half-moon spectacles on his crooked nose, covering his blue eyes. What was really strange about him, though, was his white beard, which fell below his waist, as did his matching white hair. "Who are you?"

"Albus Dumbledore, I trust you've read your letter," said the man, looking at the open envelope on Danny's bed.

"Yeah, why are you here, not to be rude? And isn't your school in London or something?"

"Yes, it is. I am taking you to Harry's friend's home, The Burrow, as requested. There you shall receive your second owl, your supplies, and reside for the rest of the summer."

"Okay…"

"We shall go now, then." With a flick of his wand, all of Danny's necessary stuff gathered itself and piled into his trunk, which drove itself to Danny. He clutched the handle tightly. "Grip my arm tightly, the left preferably." Danny did as he was told.

Another flick of the wand swept Danny's feet from under him and sent him into a mass of black. Then, his ears were being pushed in, his eyes in his sockets, and what seemed like bars of iron pressed heavily against his chest. He couldn't breathe. He was running out of oxygen!

Then, just as quickly as it came, it left. They were now outside a two-story home, now slightly lopsided, as several more floors had been added to it. A wooded sign in the yard said, "The Burrow."

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: when I get to it

Jesus, that took a long time! I nearly typed out all of Will and Won't in Book Six. It was stupid, but relevant. So…as the original, I will be quoting the book. Have fun! I probably won't get back to this until later. REAL later. Because the stories most often updated here will be M u r d e rer, Following Me To My Grave, Nail Polish, Warmth, and Carrot Top 1. I am really getting into M u r d e rer, Following Me To My Grave, and Warmth. You can tell I'm getting used to Angst. Oh well. Too bad for you, but this will be slightly angsty. Especially with all the tantrums from book six and stuff.

Definite record! 12 pages and approximately 5,782 words!


	2. The Burrow

Hey! I was not going to do this, but I got four reviews today, all from Guinivere Sage and she made a few really good comments on this story. Although I didn't get 5 reviews, I wouldn't expect to anyway until chapter 3 was up, so what's the point in slacking about it?

DISCLAIMER: Don't sue me, I don't own DP or HP. Just lettin' ya know.

And finally we get to make a huge turn from typing out whole chapters! YAY! And by the way, Guinivere Sage, you're right. Danny IS Goth. I just described him in clothing and music taste that I like. But I don't do it. And MCR is soothing for me.

SUMMARY: Now that Voldemort has risen, this is a dangerous time for anything, especially enrolling a new student. Danny Fenton has been enrolled in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and no one trusts him. At the same time, some horrible twisted thing is messing with Harry's and Danny's bodies. The worst thing is, no one knows that everyone is playing right into Voldemort's trap, and Harry and Danny are in the middle of it. HBP SPOILERS.

NOTE: I know I put Harry's perspective first, but it's Danny's that happens first actually. Remember? At the Burrow, the next day or the day after that is Harry's birthday, but Danny was picked up the 16th. Sorry for any complications.

NOTE: ANNND…I just saw September 30th is the premiere of The Fenton Menace! There's also: Identity Crisis…and Hey! All our Dark Danny fics are paying off! In Ultimate Enemy, there's a Dark Danny! Check it out at tv . com. I love craziness! Unfortunately, I have yet to see Pirate Radio.

RATED: T for language and slightly mature themes.

Chapter 2

"The Burrow"

Dumbledore and Danny slowly approached the back door and accidentally stepped on a twig, resulting in a moderately loud crack. Danny cringed, knowing for a fact that this often ended up in a bad situation. His hands habitually curled into fists and he shifted his stance, feet spread apart. He knew from experience (and school) that triangles were traditionally good shapes to put weight on, since it wouldn't sway easily since the weight would go down each side, balancing out the weight, thus keeping it up. In Danny's first fight, he had learned that spreading his feet apart to form a triangle beneath them worked well, since it also distributed weight to each leg equally.

"WHO IS THAT?" screamed a female voice from within the home. The door opened up, a woman clutching a polished wand in her hand. Her vicious face relaxed as she lowered her wand and said, "Oh, Dumbledore, we weren't expecting you until later!" Her eyes came across Danny, whose head snapped back once the door opened. "And who is this young man?"

"This is our new student, Daniel Fenton."

"I prefer Danny," he replied through clenched teeth.

"Ah, Danny, come in, come in. My goodness!" she said, surveying his skinny frame. "You're so skinny, just like Harry. Come in, we'll fill that stomach right now!" And with that, the woman, with curly red hair to her shoulders and who wore a kitchen smock, grabbed Danny and carried him into the cozy interior.

The pots, pans, and dishes washed themselves, knives hung in midair, slicing loaves of bread and a quite interesting, unique clock hung on the wall with nine faces on hands on it, all redheaded, the woman one of them. All around the clock were destinations. Each and every one of the hands pointed to MORTAL PERIL.

Dumbledore chanced a quick glance at it as the woman sighed and explained as she poured a heaping bowl of stew in front of Danny, "It's been that way for ages." But Dumbledore didn't press the matter.

"Molly, don't feed him too much. Let him talk with the others!"

Others? If there were others, where were they? Danny needn't have spoken, since several redheaded boys around his age, one tall and lanky, and a bushy brown-haired g i r l raced down the stairs, the g i r l desperately trying to catch them.

"Fred, George, Ron, stop it right now!" said Molly angrily, stuffing several slices of bread into Danny's mouth. The three boys came to a halt when the tall one spoke.

"Aw, come on, Mum! You never let us have any fun!"

"Ron, yes you do, I've let Fred and George have their shop!"

"True, but you're still not all that happy about it are you?" said one of the boys.

"Well, I haven't blown my cork yet, have I, Fred?"

"Ah, but—"

"No. Stop it this instance."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," sighed the g i r l.

"No trouble at all, Hermione," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling at her from the side, now placing a few cutlets on Danny's plate.

Silence broke through as Dumbledore left and the four of them stared at the strange boy who sat behind the kitchen chair with Mrs. Weasley dumping several various foodstuffs on the plate before him.

"Mum," said Ron, "who's that?"

"That, Ron, is your new classmate."

"Wait, I didn't meet him before. How's he getting into Hogwarts?"

"Well, Dumbledore has decided that he has shown extreme magical ability after age eleven, more around fourteen, and has decided to enroll him for his sixth year. His name—"

"My name is Danny. Danny Fenton." Danny said; if anyone were going to introduce him, it would be Danny himself.

"Fenton?" said Hermione. "As in—"

"Yes, as in the freakish ghost hunting family. The hunting genes didn't come into my sister."

"What about you?"

"Er—I would say yes, in a way."

"Wicked!" said Ron with a wild expression on his face. "You could get rid of the family ghoul!"

"No, Ron, he'd transfigure you into a teddy bear for the ghoul," said George sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"So, Mum shoving food down your throat?" asked Fred. Danny nodded at the mountain on his plate. "Yep, does that to anyone who she thinks is skinny. Keeps trying to shovel more down Ron's and Harry's." Both Mrs. Weasley's and Ron's ears went red.

"Shutup," said Ron quietly.

Hermione walked over to Danny while Mrs. Weasley left the kitchen and told him, "Let's go before she comes back." Nodding, Danny stood up and left with the other four upstairs to be given a grand tour of the area.

"This is Ron's room," said Fred as they adjourned upwards, pointing to the only room on the floor. Taking a peer inside, he saw several posters, with moving people, labeled Chudley Cannons. Every inch of the room was orange, and it hurt Danny to look at it.

George swept in and opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of underwear before Ron could stop him.

"And this is Ronnie's trademark Chudley Cannons underwear! Special edition, since it has a picture of them on it." Indeed it did. George held it up for all to see, stretching the elastic. There was a picture of someone on a broom flying, also moving, on the underwear, stretching out each time George pulled them apart.

"Gimme those!" said Ron, snatching the underwear and ferociously stuffing it in his drawer, his ears a bright shade of red. By then, Hermione, Danny, and Fred had erupted in laughter; that was some pretty entertaining underwear!

"Ah," said a silky voice as a g i r l came down the stairs, followed by another. " 'Ow funny!"

The first one looked to be nineteen, with silky sliver-blond hair tied back with a blue ribbon. Her elegant face glowed and her figure was absolutely beautiful. The second one looked more average; she, too, had straight red hair like all of her siblings, and appeared to be fifteen. She looked onto the first girl with hatred. Danny turned to Hermione, who had rolled her eyes and, startled looked back at him. The redheaded g i r l looked at him with a surprised look on her face.

"What?" he asked.

"Well, almost every guy in the house except for Dad had tried his best to get her attention. Stupid little part-veela. I can't believe I'm going to end up her sister-in-law," said the redheaded girl with hatred in every syllable.

"Okay, back up for me," said Danny. "What's a veela, why did every guy try to get her attention, and explain anything else I might want to know."

"Ginny! He hasn't been at Hogwarts before! He doesn't even know what we learned in our first year!" said Hermione.

"Really?" responded Ginny. "Well, then, a big great welcome to you for entering the wizarding world. Must be powerful to come in late. Anyway, a veela is a ridiculously beautiful creature who have high tempers and turn into fireball birdy thingies when angry. That's why everyone's tried to get her attention.

"That was Fleur Delacour by the way, from Beauxbatons Academy in France. She was one of the wizards and witches participating in the stupid Triwizard Tournament last year with Harry, Cedric, and Viktor Krum from Belgium's Durmstrang Institute.

"Her grandmother was a veela so she doesn't have that high a temper. I'm going to end up her sister-in-law because one of my oldest brothers, Bill, is getting married to her.

"She thinks she's so good, that little snooty, perfect, bossy, know-it-all—" Ginny ran off a long list of all of Fleur's bad qualities.

"Ginny!" said Hermione, bringing her back to reality. "You'll live!"

"You're not going to be her relative! Day after day that stupid little 'Ah, 'ow 'ilarious' she uses to try and win everyone's hearts over! So far she's only gotten to Bill and Ron," said Ginny with a smirk. "Mum reckons Bill should've gone with Tonks."

"Y'know," said Hermione, "I'm starting to see what she means!"

2 weeks later, Dumbledore had met up with Harry on Privet Drive to have a little talk with him. After gathering all his belongings, the two of them Apparated to the Burrow. By the time they got to their destination, it was around midnight.

"WHO'S THERE?" screamed a voice that Harry recognized as Mrs. Weasley's. The door opened to show Mrs. Weasley wielding her wand like a sword. Her expression softened immediately as she continued. "Dear God, you just keep coming at random moments, Dumbledore! First Danny, now Harry! Oh, Harry!" Mrs. Weasley took notice of the lanky sixteen-year-old standing before her.

"My, Harry, you've grown so much!" she said happily, staring at Harry. He was finally getting into puberty, as he had grown a considerable amount and was now reaching Ron's height, who was about a full head taller than Hermione. But what Harry had in height he didn't have in weight; the poor youth had no fat, just skin and bones and was as skinny as a stick. For once, Mrs. Weasley's judgments were correct, as she thought that the boy needed two heaping courses of a midnight snack.

"Hey, Mrs. Weasley," he replied.

Walking in with Mrs. Weasley, or rather being tugged in fiercely by Mrs. Weasley, he was plopped down in the kitchen seat before a plate as Mrs. Weasley began piling food onto his plate, never stopping to let him eat before putting one of everything on the kitchen before him. Harry normally would have insisted that it was enough as it was, he couldn't repress a feeling in his stomach. It growled ferociously and that food was looking really good; this summer, the Dursleys were doing an exceptional job at starving him.

Harry's eyes had wandered to the clock that showed all of the Weasleys on a different hand, which always pointed to their location. Right now, each of them was at MORTAL PERIL. It was then that he noticed…

"Where's Mr. Weasley right now?" he asked through mouthfuls of food.

"Oh, he's still at the Ministry," said Mrs. Weasley. "I don't know if Ron's told you in any of his letters—it's only just happened—but Arthur's been promoted!"

It could not have been clearer that Mrs. Weasley had been bursting to say this.

Harry swallowed a large amount of very hot soup and thought he could feel his throat blistering. "That's great!" he gasped.

"You are sweet," beamed Mrs. Weasley, possibly taking his watering eyes for emotion at the news. "Yes, Rufus Scrimgeour has set up several new offices in response to the present situation, and Arthur's heading the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. It's a big job, he's got ten people reporting to him right now!"

"What exactly—?"

"Well, you see, in all the panic about You-Know-Who, odd things have been cropping up for sale everywhere, things that are supposed to guard against You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters. You can imagine the kind of thing—so-called protective potions that are really gravy with a bit of bubotuber pus added, or instructions for defensive jinxes that actually make your ears fall off…Well, in the main the perpetrators are just people like Mundungus Fletcher, who've never done an honest day's work in their lives and are taking advantage of how frightened everybody is, but every now and then something really nasty turns up. The other day Arthur confiscated a box of cursed Sneakoscopes that were almost certainly planted by a Death Eater. So you see, it's a very important job, and I tell him it's just silly to miss dealing with spark plugs and toasters and all the rest of that Muggle rubbish." Mrs. Weasley ended her speech with a stern look, as if it had been Harry suggesting that it was natural to miss spark plugs.

"Oh, Arthur's a bit late…he said he'd be back around midnight…."

She turned to look at a large clock that was perched awkwardly on top of a pile of sheets, the same one that Harry was eyeing a minute earlier.

"OH!" said Mrs. Weasley; Mr. Weasley's hand was now on "Traveling". "He's coming!"

And sure enough, a moment later there was a knock on the back door. Mrs. Weasley jumped up and hurried to it; with one hand on the doorknob and her face pressed against the wood she called softly, "Arthur, is that you?"

"Yes," came Mr. Weasley's weary voice. "But I would say that even if I were a Death Eater, dear. Ask the question!"

"Oh, honestly…"

"Molly!"

"All right, all right…What is your dearest ambition?"

"To find out how airplanes stay up."

Mrs. Weasley nodded and turned the doorknob, but apparently Mr. Weasley was holding tight to it on the other side, because the door remained firmly shut.

"Molly! I've got to ask you your question first!"

"Arthur, really, this is just silly…"

"What do you like me to call you when we're alone together?"

Even by the dim light of the lantern set on the table Harry could tell that Mrs. Weasley had turned bright red; he himself felt suddenly warm around the ears and neck, and hastily gulped soup, clattering his spoon as loudly as he could against the bowl.

"Mollywobbles," whispered a mortified Mrs. Weasley into the crack at the edge of the door.

"Correct," said Mr. Weasley. "Now you can let me in."

Mrs. Weasley opened the door to reveal her husband, a thin, balding, red-haired wizard wearing horn-rimmed spectacles and a long and dusty traveling cloak.

"I still don't see why we have to go through that every time you come home," said Mrs. Weasley, still pink in the face as she helped her husband out of his cloak. "I mean, a Death Eater might have forced the answer out of you before impersonating you!"

Harry quietly left the table as Mr. Weasley sat down and heard the conversation continue as he checked all the rooms on his way up. Most were taken before he reached Fred and George's, where he peered in and found neatly made beds, almost awaiting his arrival. He smiled wearily and, only bothering to take off his shoes and socks, slipped under the covers and fell into a world of black.

Chapter 2

Chapter 3: when I get to it…again.

How'd you like that? More original! Shorter, too! Hallelujah, now both chapters make sense together! For those of you wondering (and I bet very few are) I may or may not be bringing Janel back into the story. That's for me to decide and whether or not I am when I am writing the third chapter. I love Mrs. Weasley; I feel I got her character on the head! Shoving food down their throats…that's the best! I can't really get Fred and George so well…but I loved the underwear bit!

I've got to go! I hope you like this chapter! PLEASE REVIEW or I shall sic a rabid, overly hyper Carrot Top and Janel on you. And you don't want them on you! Especially together!


	3. Overlap

Oy…Thank you LaBOBuren! You've geared me up! I've read your review from August 4th, and once I read it I immediately decided, I'm getting the third chapter of CoTF as soon as possible. Well, I was still at camp and then it hit me when I got home: redo the story. Because, well, one, my writing skills then weren't whack, but they still lacked the level of decency I strive to achieve now. Whoa…big words, eh? So, while remaking it, I decided to make it an HBP crossover. Sorry for those of you who haven't read it yet, but I realized, any overly crazed HP fan would've finished it by the time I did (on the 18th of July), so tough luck to the HP fans who haven't read it yet. I sort of regret my decision…I was really upset to abandon the theory of Umbridge being Danny's mom…it made up half the damn plot!

Well, it's past 1 am on the 29th and I'm not stopping until this story is up! So you'd better be damn happy with it! Flames still accepted though.

**IF YOU HAVE NOT READ THE REVISED EDITION OF COTF, GO BACK AND READ IT RIGHT NOW!**

SUMMARY: Now that Voldemort has risen, this is a dangerous time for anything, especially enrolling a new student. Danny Fenton has been enrolled in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and no one trusts him. At the same time, some horrible twisted thing is messing with Harry's and Danny's bodies. The worst thing is, no one knows that everyone is playing right into Voldemort's trap, and Harry and Danny are in the middle of it. HBP SPOILERS.

DISCLAIMER: yada yada, reference to chapter 2's disclaimer.

RATED: T for language and slightly mature themes.

Chapter 3

"Overlap"

About two seconds after Harry closed his eyes he was shaken awake. Or so he thought, because as he tiredly opened his eyes, through the window was a bright streak of sunlight. He opened his eyes fully, slipping on his glasses.

"Wuzzgoingon?" he asked, suddenly staring two faces in the eyes.

"We didn't know you were here already!" said a loud and excited voice, and he received a sharp blow to the top of the head.

"Ron, don't hit him!" said a girl's voice reproachfully.

"You dolt! He just woke up!" said another voice, this one male. But unlike the other two, Harry couldn't tell who it was, and this person was apparently American from his accent.

"You all right?" said Ron, backing out so Harry could prop himself up on the pillow to have a glance around the room.

Doing so, he peered about and saw the same room he had entered the night before. Standing before him were three people, though he only recognized two. One was Ronald Weasley, preferably Ron, and the other Hermione Granger. But there was another, with black hair and clear blue eyes. He looked remarkably like Harry, but only in terms of the face and physical structure. When it came to clothing, they couldn't have been more different; this boy had black boots and matching jeans with a navy T-shirt. He also saw several silver links hanging off his pants and several black bracelets on his wrists.

True it was. Danny had packed a few extra things and didn't have the time to put them on that morning, so they went in his trunk. But this was his normal attire, complete in every way.

Danny lifted his arm coolly and curled his hand into a fist with the exception of his thumb and pinky. Harry could see a small speck on his wrist. Danny dropped his arm silently, not a word coming out of his mouth.

"All right?" asked Ron.

"Never been better, but I could deal with knowing who he is," said Harry, rubbing the top of his head and slumping down the pillows. "You?"

"Oh, him!" said Hermione. "Introductions later!"

"We've been fine," replied Ron as though Hermione never said anything. "When did you get here? Mum's only just told us!"

"About one o'clock this morning."

"Were the Muggles all right? Did they treat you okay?" Harry could see the black-draped boy's brow raise up in confusion. At this, Harry himself got confused. If this boy was a wizard, why didn't he know Muggle? Then again, he may be just newly discovered, like Harry was at eleven, and not know what a Muggle is yet.

"Same as usual," said Harry casually, as Hermione perched herself on the edge of his bed, "they didn't talk to me much, but I like it better that way. How're you, Hermione?"

"Oh, I'm fine," said Hermione, who was scrutinizing Harry as though he was sickening for something. He thought he knew what was behind this, and as he had no wish to discuss Sirius's death or any other miserable subject at the moment, he said, "What's the time? Have I missed breakfast?"

At long last, the mysterious boy moved from his spot and checked his watch. "It's around ten thirty."

Harry nodded as Ron continued. "Don't worry about that, Mum's bringing you up a tray; she reckons you look underfed," said Ron, rolling his eyes with the boy. "So, what's been going on?"

"Nothing much. I've just been stuck at my aunt and uncle's haven't I?"

"Come off it!" said Ron. "You've been off with Dumbledore!"

"It wasn't that exciting. He just wanted me to help him persuade this old teacher to come out of retirement. His name's Horace Slughorn." The boy in the corner gave an involuntary twitch.

"Oh," said Ron, looking disappointed. "We thought—"

Hermione flashed a warning look at Ron, and Ron changed tack at top speed with the boy smirking as he leaned on the wall. The wall pushed him up, one leg on the ground firmly, the other bent and against the wall, arms crossed.

"—we thought it'd be something like that."

"You did?" said Harry, amused.

"Yeah…yeah, now Umbridge has left, obviously we need a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, don't we? So, er, what's he like?"

"He looks a bit like a walrus,"—the boy gave another twitch—"and he used to be Head of Slytherin," said Harry. "Something wrong, Hermione?"

She was watching him as though expecting strange symptoms to manifest themselves at any moment. She rearranged her features hastily in an unconvincing smile.

"No, of course not! So, um, did Slughorn seem like he'll be a good teacher?"

"Dunno," said Harry. "He can't be worse than Umbridge, can he?"

"I know someone who's worse than Umbridge," said a voice from the doorway. Ron's younger sister slouched into the room, looking irritable. "Hi, Harry."

"What's up with you?" Ron asked.

"It's _her,_" said Ginny, plonking herself down on Harry's bed. "She's driving me mad."

"What's she done now?" asked Hermione sympathetically.

"It's the way she talks to me—you'd think I was about three!"

"I know," said Hermione, dropping her voice. "She's so full of herself."

Harry was astonished to hear Hermione talking about Mrs. Weasley like this.

The boy nodded understandingly and got up from his position. He at last engaged in the conversation. "I know. She walks around trying to mooch something off of me. It's so annoying. The way she talks to me, you'd think I was more important than Bill. I swear, she's trying to s e d u c e me." Harry's eyes widened; Mrs. Weasley? Seducing a boy his age? The picture just didn't come to in his mind.

Harry could not blame Ron for saying angrily, "Can't you three lay off her for five seconds?"

"Oh, that's right, defend her," snapped Ginny. "We all know you can't get enough of her."

This seemed an odd comment to make about Ron's mother. Starting to feel that he was missing something, Harry said, "Who are you—?"

But his question was answered before he could finish it. The bedroom door flew open again, and Harry instinctively yanked the bedcovers up to his chin so hard that Hermione and Ginny slid off the bed onto the floor.

A young women was standing in the doorway, a woman of such breathtaking beauty that the room seemed to have become strangely airless. She was tall and willowy with long blonde hair and appeared to emanate a faint, silvery glow. To complete this vision of perfection, she was carrying a heavily laden breakfast tray.

"'Arry," she said in a throaty voice. "Eet 'as been too long!"

As she swept over the threshold toward him, Mrs. Weasley was revealed, bobbing along in her wake, looking rather cross.

"There was no need to bring up the tray, I was just about to do it myself!"

"Eet was no trouble," said Fleur Delacour, setting the tray across Harry's knees and then swooping down to kiss him on each cheek: He felt the places where her mouth had touched him burn. The boy rolled his eyes as if he were pathetic. "I 'ave been longing to see 'im. You remember my seester, Gabrielle? She never stops talking about 'Arry Potter. She will be delighted to see you again."

"Oh…is she here too?" Harry croaked. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the boy about to burst out in laughter.

"No, no, silly boy," said Fleur with a tinkling laugh, "I mean next summer, when we—but do you not know?"

Her great blue eyes widened and she looked reproachfully at Mrs. Weasley, who said, "We haven't gotten around to telling him yet."

Fleur turned back to Harry, swinging her silvery sheet of hair so that it whipped Mrs. Weasley across the face.

"Bill and I are going to be married!" Behind her, he could see the boy puff his mouth, holding two fingers to his mouth, eyes wide. Harry recognized it as a very good impression of an ill person about to throw up.

With that, Fleur gracefully leaned back up and left the room, Mrs. Weasley grumpily following, closing the door as lightly as she could, which wasn't that light at all.

"To hell with everything else," said Harry rudely, starting on his breakfast. "Introductions now, I don't feel comfortable like this."

Smiling as if he knew something Harry didn't, the boy walked up to him. "Hey, Danny Fenton." Harry's eyes grew wide.

"Fenton? As in—"

"Everyone gets the same reaction!" said Danny with a small chuckle. "Yeah, Fenton, as in the freakish ghost hunting family with one daughter in psychology and a son who always has ghost gadgets going off at him."

Brows raised, Harry continued. "Why?"

"Oh, um, yeah, see, well—" Danny stammered. Ron and Hermione looked at him curiously; obviously this was one thing they hadn't known before. "My dad's a little screwy, so most ghost gadgets go off with me since some ghost energy got into my body when I fixed the portal. But it was nothing big!" he added hastily.

"Why do I get the feeling this isn't the truth?" asked Hermione.

"Um, yeah, maybe, er, because it isn't?" replied Danny shyly.

"Then what is?" asked Ron.

"Er, yeah, can we continue this conversation later? I don't feel comfortable right now with it."

There was a sickening pause after this last nervous comment. Danny looked down at his shiny boots and shut his eyes. For a second, he felt his body go cold and the necks on the back of his neck prickle with goose bumps. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, in desperate hope that nothing had changed. Standing on the ground were two black boots.

"It's later," said Ginny in a stern monotone.

"Fine, you caught me, but I warn you, you might want to avoid me after this," warned Harry. They had cornered him, and he had no choice but to comply. And anyway, weren't these people witches and wizards? If anyone knew strange, it was them.

"I'm—"

"Danny! Come down with the lot of them!" said Mrs. Weasley halfway up the stairs. Danny let out a sigh of relief. For some reason, he had freakishly good timing.

Danny opened the door and ventured down the stairs, the rest of the people trailing behind. As he reached the last step, he carefully peeked over the wall to see what was going on. To his surprise, there was a cake.

"Come on, come on! Happy Birthday, Danny!" said Mrs. Weasley proudly ass he ushered them all down the stairs.

"Wait, it's the thirtieth already?" asked Danny in shock; boy, two weeks passed by freakishly quickly!

"Yeah!"

"Happy 16th Birthday, Danny!" exclaimed Mr. Weasley happily. Fleur got up from the living room and headed towards him. Obviously she didn't see him rolling his eyes.

"'Appy Birthday, Danny!" she said smoothly, leaning down in the smallest bit, her face magnified to ridiculous proportions.

"Um, yeah, thanks," said Danny distractedly as Harry and Ginny snickered behind him. Danny swooped past Fleur as Harry wondered how he was unaffected by her. Shaking this off, he sat down at the table with everyone else as Mrs. Weasley cut a heaping piece or two for Danny and Harry. Ron got a moderately large one, which immediately stopped his snickers, peering at the large plate.

After a long time of trying to get out of the party (Danny wasn't so keen on them, not since Vlad) and successfully worming out of Fleur's romantic, yet pathetic clutches, Danny was finally able to venture back up the stairs with the rest trailing after him.

"So…" said Hermione, breaking an annoying, slightly buzzing, silence between the five of them.

"What about that secret?" Ron had voiced what everyone was thinking and what was silently nagging at Danny's mind. He knew that he'd either break it or make it with one sentence and prepared backstory to it so it wouldn't seem so ridiculous.

Sighing, he braced himself for the worst.

"Well…"

Chapter 3

Chapter 4: don't get your hopes up in the following week

Whoo! That was nice! Took a little more than an hour to write, with a little intermission for Mugglenet's random lists! But it's done, and up just because LaBOBuren reviewed again after several months. She kept me going and I'm so happy everyone likes it. I didn't plan on Fleur trying to… you know…with Danny at first.


	4. Unnoticed Eyes

Hello, there! I had been working on TCfSR chapter 6 (and feeling immensely guilty for what I'm going to do to Danny, Sam, and Tucker) and then I looked back on my CoTF chapters and realized: that's one hell of a cliffy! And so I won't kill you, I'll do it now. And besides, I want to do this before Ophelia hits. Rain for another damn week. Ay. Anyway….

LABOBUREN, REVIEW! Your August review is what spurred me to write chapter 3!

DISCLAIMER: no and no…although I will be someday writing in my own book category here and I will have the opportunity to start yelling here:

"HA! I OWN THIS BOOK AND YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT!"

RATING: T for slightly mature themes and language.

Pretype Start: September 15, 2005, 7:37 pm

Chapter 4

"Unnoticed Eyes"

"Well…I'm half-ghost."

A sickening silence resounded in the room as Danny looked around nervously. He knew they wouldn't believe this. Not on his life.

"What?" goggled Hermione.

"You want the whole story, you got it," sighed Danny reluctantly. "A few years ago, when I was fourteen, my parents built a ghost portal—the Fenton Portal—down in the basement. But when they plugged it in, it didn't work. They were so depressed and I couldn't stand it, so I donned the traditional Fenton suit to examine the portal. I walked in, my hand tracing the wall so I wouldn't trip as easily. And then I found two buttons. One on, the other off—" Practically everyone snorted simultaneously "—and accidentally pressed the on button. Next thing I knew, ectoplasm found its way to my DNA—ectoplasm is a type of green goo that all ghosts contain and it's what allows them to exist—and it bonded with my human genes," said Danny. Here Hermione entered the conversation in unison with him.

"Thus allowing you to switch forms between a human and a ghost!" they said together.

Ron blinked several times. "In English, please?"

Danny sighed. "Basically, I can become a ghost at will."

"Wicked!" said Ron, while Harry just stared at him.

"What do you mean, Ron?"

"Nah, it's pretty cool, really," said Danny. "The only bad part is the memories of the fights."

"Fights?" said Ginny.

"Yeah. Because I fixed the portal, ghosts kept attacking my hometown, Amity Park. Since I was the only one on their level of being, I had to keep them away, even if the town did hate me for a little while."

"And what's so bad about the fighting? Great way to get rid of emotions, right?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah, but I get what a lot of people would call _battle scars_," spat Danny.

"Well, let us see. Maybe we can help," said Harry.

"If you really want to…" said Danny reluctantly. "And keep in mind that if you're grossed out or anything, you asked."

Danny slid his shirt off, revealing his arms and upper body. They were very well-built and muscular. It seemed impossible that such a scrawny boy could be like that. But several red and pink scratches tarnished his body. On his arm, there was a deep red gash that, when Danny touched it, still hurt. "Fifteen when I got that. Stupid Pariah ghost king."

Another cut slashed down from his shoulder blade down to his hip. It was shallow, but still a bright red and one could swear that some b l o o d still resided on his chest after being wiped off. The rest of his body was nearly covered in white bandage.

At that exact moment, Mrs. Weasley decided to burst through the door, and with a flourish of surprise, Danny became invisible in hope that she hadn't seen anything. He bit his lip, hoping his invisibility wouldn't go faulty on him. He still had some trouble with his powers, especially when surprised.

"Time for—where did Danny go?" asked Mrs. Weasley, looking about the room.

"Uh, nowhere, he just, uh—" stalled Harry. Hermione took over.

"Went to the bathroom to, er—" she stuttered. Now Ginny spoke.

"Get the, um—" she muttered. From here, Ron took her place.

"Stuff!" he ended. Mrs. Weasley looked at him warily, but at that moment, she looked to the corner where Danny was suspiciously.

_Oh, man! _he thought. Just as Mrs. Weasley's head was almost out of his view, though, he became visible to the human eye once more and Mrs. Weasley's head shot back to him. She gasped.

"Danny, oh, dear! What happened, how did that work? Oh, my!" rambled Mrs. Weasley, looking intently at his wounds. "We must get those fixed up!"

"No, Mrs. Weasley, it's ok—"

"Are you joking? Just look at all those wounds? Oh, dear, how do you get in these situations—?"

"Really, it's alright—"

"No, we'll get that cleaned up in a jiffy."

Danny sighed. He hated doing this. Just as Mrs. Weasley raised her wand, aiming at Danny, he went intangible and disappeared once more. The jet of light headed to Danny, but it passed right through him with a little tickle and instead hit the mirror, shattering it.

Mrs. Weasley jumped back, startled, at Danny's sudden disappearance. Then, he reappeared, looking doubtful, biting his lip, shirt on. He ran his hands through his hair.

"H-How did you do that?" asked Mrs. Weasley, frightened.

"Er—I dunno!" said Danny, but it became evident he was a horrible liar. He hung his head low, and Ginny luckily covered for him. "How's about we just stay here, Mum? He's probably confused how he did that, right, Danny?" she asked, dropping hints to him subtly. He nodded, or what looked like a nod from his head position. Ginny hastily pushed Mrs. Weasley out the door and shut it, locking it by magic.

Silence rang through the room and Danny had never felt more embarrassed.

"Wicked!" yelled Ron, making Danny look up.

"Really?" he asked in amazement.

"Yeah!" he replied excitedly.

"So…anything else I might want to know?" asked Harry. Danny was about to shake his head no, but something came to mind from two weeks earlier.

"Yeah. We're related." Harry choked on air, Ginny sat wide-eyed, and everyone else just blinked rapidly.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

"Well, your dad is my dad's second cousin so that makes us something along the lines of fourth cousins."

Ron squeaked something that sounded oddly like "weird."

"Your dad is my dad's second cousin?" asked Harry stupidly.

"No, he's Padme Amidala."

"Who?" asked Ginny.

"Oh, just a princess in the Star Wars movies who is constantly in these impractical outfits," said Danny casually. "But the point is, I have no money."

"Doesn't the ghost fighting business pay?" asked Harry.

"Not when you're constantly hated and being hunted."

"Right, but I'm talking about your parents. Don't they have a job with the military or something?"

"Nah," said Danny. "The military doesn't believe in ghosts, no matter how real. But the point is, that when I said I don't have any money, I don't have any wizard money," said Danny.

"Right…I can loan you a lot," said Harry.

"Good," he said.

"Come on down, you lot! We're off to Diagon Alley!" shrieked Mrs. Weasley's shrill voice. Slightly smirking, everyone left the coziness of the bedroom and met the Weasley parents at the fireplace, holding a flowerpot of dark green powder.

But what all of them failed to notice was the pair of unusual eyes following their bodies as they moved to the red-haired parents.

Chapter 4

Chapter 5: ay…

I was going to do the train ride and Diagon Alley here, but I just got back from my aunt's birthday, which ruled because I could be a pain in the ass for my cousin, and my brain was fried for it, so I just stopped here…Ah well, too bad for you!

And a last note: once snakegirl10 gets her stories up, I FORCE YOU TO READ HER STUFF! At least give her a shot! PLEASE? But wait 'till it's up.

UPDATES TODAY: Colliding of Two Forces, American Idiot (NEW!)


	5. Dragon Heartstring

Aw…thanks for all the reviews, guys! This story is now my most popular one of them ALL! I love you all! I would do review responses, but I tried, and it was over a page, so sorry. All I can say is…LaBOBuren, no, there is no foreshadowing with the spacing of the words. It's a long story, but some words don't work on my Internet sometimes. I love you all, and I can't say anything else!

To Eternal Façade, thank you! I was all like "Who knew I was updating now?" and I appreciate your comment! I appreciate everyone's comments, really, but I was all…how'd she know? Anyway, I hope you love this story, and as for the person watching, keep guessing! If anyone read the original version of CoTF (which I miraculously have not yet thrown out), you'd know who's watching! And yes, Danny's scar has something to do with it.

To the person who flamed me, ": ", I have but a few things for you. I realize what I did, I meant for it to be that way. If you read the WHOLE FREAKING STORY, you'd see the reason! And excuse me? BETA? I am a freaking beta, so shut your damn mouth! And who are you telling me to fix my writing? You're the one with bad grammar and spelling! I'm not taking you seriously until you fix your grammar. At least people can comprehend me so that they can flame me on what I write, not my spelling and grammar because they couldn't read it. So until your writing is fixed, I suggest shutting your mouth, because you have worse problems than I do.

Here we go everyone, the plot begins to unravel itself! At last! And I know, I've missed a lot of details. Excuse me, this story will be edited, but not now, so please ignore my ignorance (irony).

DISCLAIMER: no and no.

RATED: T for slightly mature themes and language.

Chapter 5

"Dragon Heartstring"

The eyes stared warily as the six Weasleys, Hermione, Harry, and Danny one by one disappeared into thin air. It raised a thin, bony eyebrow at the boy draped in black. So it was him. Then it would all execute perfectly.

"Danny, dear, are you all right?" asked Mrs. Weasley as Ron just disappeared in the green fire, as if reduced to ashes. It looked like…the ectoplasmic energy he was able to produce, and wondered what effects it would have on him. It better not be bad…

"Yes, I'm fine," said Danny after getting shaken out of his daze. You never know until you try, thought Danny grimly, and end up in the cemetery. He grabbed a handful of powder out of the flowerpot as he saw the others do and walked into the fireplace, preparing himself for clear speech.

"Diagon Alley!" he said with distinct breaks between words. With that, he dropped the powder into the cinders and never got a chance to see the green flames lick his feet and erupt, swallowing his whole body.

He was thrown into a strange world, similar to the Ghost Zone, but not quite like it. He was floating through, the doors on both the left and right engraved with gold. Each door had a destination.

"Knockturn Alley"

"Hogsmeade"

"Hogwarts" which was nailed and chained shut, with glowing curses, jinxes, and attacks surrounding it. Danny made sure to keep a distance between himself and that door.

Finally, he found Diagon Alley and walked through the door to be thrown down a dark tunnel and end up covered in soot before several people waiting for him in a pub.

Harry smiled; he looked exactly like he did several years ago with his first trip on the Floo Network.

When Danny's eyes were closed as he coughed violently and Mr. Weasley had his back turned, Harry, Hermione, and Ron all got a sudden shock and felt a little numb. The feeling stayed and did not leave.

Mr. Weasley was still turned. Ron grinned widely and shook the still coughing Danny. His eyes slowly opened to stare at Ron, trying to hold back a couple of coughs.

"Danny, you think you can pull a prank on Fred and George? They've had it coming for years!" he whispered. Danny reluctantly nodded, fully remembering Poindexter. But he couldn't reach him there, could he?

He turned intangible at that moment and flew over to Fred and George, who were talking about their latest product for their store. Danny smirked, remembering the prank back at The Burrow.

Danny tied their shoelaces together, seeing how close together they were and then grabbed George's underwear and flung it over his head, giving him a nuclear wedgie. Screaming, Danny became invisible and pushed George lightly on the chest so he fell over backwards, arms waving around wildly, screaming. Fred was laughing uncontrollably until he toppled over on George.

Danny had to admit it, that was fun to watch _and_ do! But he was out of the pranking business, especially after Poindexter. But one last prank couldn't hurt, right? And he was all the way in London while Poindexter was way back in the haunted locker at Casper.

Ron himself collapsed laughing as the twins tried to untie themselves. George still couldn't get his underwear off his head, so he had to walk around with it on until Fred snapped it off his head. George yelped. His hair was ruffled and he couldn't walk right anymore. Ron was still chuckling as they entered the actual Diagon Alley and began to browse around.

"Harry, here's some money. Bill took it out of your vault. He's told me that it's taking 5 hours to get to a vault, security's tightened up, and got it out for you. Please, be a dear and give Danny some for his materials," said Mrs. Weasley, handing Harry a bag full of coins.

Half of them, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Danny, headed for Madam Malkin's for robes while the rest headed to Flourish and Blotts for books.

The group walked through the doors of Madam Malkin's to see a boy with platinum blond hair and his mother. The boy was standing on a stool, arms out like a human cross, black robes hanging off his slender frame as a middle-aged woman, pins in mouth and hand, fitted him.

"Ow! Watch where you're poking those, woman!" scolded the boy. Danny raised an eyebrow and said but one word.

"Hilarious."

The boy turned around and saw the group of sixteen-year-olds. He sneered, and Harry and Ron raised their wands. Danny began to clench his hand into a fist, beginning to glow ever so slightly with green energy.

Hermione held them all back, whispering, "You can't…you mustn't…we'll get in such trouble…he's not worth it!" Danny was the first to close his eyes, let his fist go and take in a deep breath.

"Who are you?" asked the boy suspiciously. Danny kept his eyebrow up.

"It's none of your concern until I know who you are."

"Fair enough. Draco Malfoy. Pureblood. These people all might as well be Mudbloods like Granger." He smirked as Danny resisted the urge to shove his arm down his throat and pull out his stomach. Instead, his eyes glowed an intense green. Draco took a subtle step back as Madam Malkin freed her mouth from the pins.

"Don't use that kind of language here!" she reprimanded as Draco threw off his robes and stormed out.

"Come, Mother. I don't think I like this shop anymore." His mother smirked and followed.

"Yes…perhaps we'll have better luck at Twilfitt and Tatting's."

By the end of their adventure in Madam Malkin's, Hermione walked out with new dress robes, Harry and Ron with new robes to replace their old ones that they had grown out of, and Danny with brand new robes in general.

They headed for Flourish and Blotts where all the books had already been purchased. Reunited, they headed to Ollivander's for Danny's wand. Walking into the musty little shop, Danny sat down on the small stool, coughing the dust in the air.

A rustle came from behind the desk as an old man, white hair and vest, walked out and took a good look at Danny. He grinned.

"Ah, Mr. Fenton, I presume," he said.

"Yeah, I suppose so," replied Danny.

"Here for you first wand?" He didn't give Danny the chance to reply. "All right then." With his wand, he bewitched a roll of measuring tape to measure every aspect of Danny's being, from his waist to his head to his thickness. At last, Mr. Ollivander examined the measurements and headed in back, rummaging for a decent wand.

He brought out a beautiful, polished wand in a white box and asked for Danny's wand hand. Presuming he meant what hand he wrote with, he stuck out his left arm. Mr. Ollivander put the wand in and told him the stats of the wand, so to speak.

"Beech, unicorn hair. 14 inches." Danny did nothing with the wand. "Well? Give it a wave!"

Danny nodded sheepishly and waved. A jet of dark green shot out like fireworks. Mr. Ollivander snatched the wand and quickly retrieved another.

"Holly, phoenix feather, 13 inches." Danny gave this one a wave and nothing but a yellow swirl came out like floating milk. Mr. Ollivander snatched this one as well.

"Ash, dragon heartstring, 13-and-a-half inches." Danny waved this one as well as a glowing green ball formed in the air and stayed. He gulped. Mr. Ollivander raised his eyebrow.

"Hmm…interesting reaction, but this must be your wand. Strange also…" he muttered, wrapping the wand in brown paper.

"What is it?" asked Danny.

"You sound like Mr. Potter when he came in here," murmured Mr. Ollivander. "A very similar situation. The mother of the dragon whose heartstring resides in your wand was a Siamese twin to another. That one gave the heartstring to another wizard…one whose power is so indescribable that words nor thoughts can express it."

Danny's scar burned, but he ignored it, walking out of the small shop after Harry paid for him, hoping never to go in there again.

Soon, they picked up his Potion materials and anything else he needed. Harry and Ron then raced to the Quidditch shop, Danny trailing unsurely behind them. On display was the newest model yet—the Speedwhisp. Danny only saw a fashionable broom.

"Uh, what's this?" he asked.

"Brooms are used for flying around, and are used in a famous Wizarding sport—Quidditch." Danny didn't question further. However, he managed to straggle a few Galleons from Harry (and snuck the rest using intangibility) to buy himself a broom and have it delivered during the school year.

The eyes that watched him go into Diagon Alley stared at him from above, watching it all. They narrowed, and blew into the wind like fall leaves, the mind behind them formulating a plan.

Chapter 5

Chapter 6: not now!

Next is the train ride. I know my chapters are getting shorter and shorter, but they're less intimidating, right? I'm so sorry it took me so long, and I don't even have an excuse! Please, I hope you're happy with this, and it's going to take a little bit until the real cool stuff starts! Think: October. In HP land, that is. Tomorrow, I had better see 20 emails!

And thanks for all the reviews! This story gets more than 10 reviews a chapter if they were all even, I love you all! You've given me a great reputation and spoiled me! This (rarely updated) story is for YOU GUYS!


	6. Burn

Whoa…I'm just staring at my email right now. And it feels so weird to type again…it's so STRANGE…anyways…OHMIGOD! I just got something back from Potluck Magazine! They're reviewing me for the Summer '06 issue.

FLAME RESPONSE: I just looked in and I saw a review for this story by some guy named Truth…okay, just because I love flames and replying to them…ahem…Dear Truth…I do know that I copied the first chapter of HBP word for word, more or less (you'd know it wasn't all correct if you READ THE WHOLE THING), and this story is only in the first draft stage. This story WILL be edited, mark my words, but this was the only I could start it off. And excuse me, how did I massacre Danny and Jack? As for the Gothic remark…this goes for the same person who reviewed asking me to give Danny a reason for his Goth-ness…no one has to have gone through something traumatic to become Goth. I will agree with you, Sam did become a Goth because she wanted to be her own person, but if you actually read this, he's 15 going on 16, meaning he could have chosen the same path. He just realized it was more his style, nothing more. To the person who asked for a d e a t h: same exact thing. If you saw me, you'd say that, more or less, I seem a lot like Sam, in terms of personality and clothing. The only thing(s) horrible that happened to me was…skiing down a closed course literally blind with my goggles and my grandmother's d e a t h, which wasn't all that tragic. Do I NEED a reason other than expressing myself? Now, then…

Robin, I was on vacation. I gave a notice in Snow and Ski Goggles. It was great—too bad there was a strike and 29 trails and 2 lifts were open on the mountain…and they opened their awesome pool on our last day. Ah, well…

DISCLAIMER: no and no, sorry.

RATED: T for slightly mature themes and language.

Chapter 6

"Burn"

"Desiree, I have a little job for you," said a shadow. Desiree eyeballed him, her eyes hard and cold, her arms and tail tied tightly to the chair. Truthfully, she was not only angry, but frightened. Most ghosts, mainly boys and men, dared to show up around her, either because of her reputation, or her gigantic bosom. All she could see of this one were harsh red eyes.

"What the freaking hell do you want?" she asked harshly, struggling against the ropes that bound her. She tried intangibility, but it didn't work.

"I need you to put a spell on two wizards and a witch." Desiree stopped struggling, her eyes large.

"Do you realize that my magic will fight with their magic?"

"Can't you give enough to overpower?"

"That's not it; the thing is, the magics sort of merge with each other. My magic will affect their spells, and it will have an extreme effect once it does overpower theirs. My magic will work so strongly that whatever was the wish will become ten times that. If it doesn't, the wish will only be temporary."

"Is there anything else?" asked the man, his eyes stopping in front of her.

"Yes. It really depends on the wish that I can work this magic. And the people in question."

"Fair enough," sighed the man. "Ronald Weasley, member of an old pureblood family; Hermione Granger, a bright, knowledge-hungry Muggle born witch; and Harry Potter, I'm sure you've heard of _him_."

"Hmmm," murmured Desiree, racking her brain for knowledge of the three. She finally found it and nodded. "Continue."

"I need them to forget about their newfound friend. Only when my spell comes into effect, though."

"Name?"

"Fenton." Desiree coughed and smiled wickedly.

"Oh, this should be fun…anything for _Fenton_. Anything else?"

"Yes. I need a sample of Fenton's wand…I've waited sixteen years for this day, and I'm not waiting any longer."

"Done and done. But I need to be untied first." Before her very eyes, the ropes fell away and she could float freely again. Desiree lifted her hands and began waving her hands in the fashion of a belly dancer, her waist moving as well. The bangles on her wrists shook and her hands began to glow with teal energy. Closing her eyes, she vividly pictured the four affected people and threw her arms forward as if to slash through her mental photo. When her hands returned to their normal shade, she opened her eyes. She uncurled her hands and handed a piece of dragon heartstring and ash.

"My work is done, I presume," she said, bowing ever so slightly. "And feel free to call me again if any further work is needed." She looked over her shoulder and winked.

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Danny walked into the train station, staring at his ticket. Platform nine and three-quarters, it said. He shrugged and followed Hermione and the Weasleys. He'd figure it out, anyways.

Ron headed his trolley into the barrier when no one was looking. He melted away with the brick as Hermione shortly followed. Danny sucked in air and started. Besides, he could just always phase in, anyway, so it didn't matter, really.

Before he knew it, Danny was the only one left to go in. He checked to make sure no one was there and ran at a nervous pace into the column, melting into it.

The train was just about to leave, but Danny managed to swing his things in and get into the same cabin as Hermione, Ron, and Harry. Soon, the trolley came around and both Harry and Danny took out their money pouches.

"Hey! Who took my Galleons?" exclaimed Harry, Danny smirking with his face towards the cart. He handed over three Galleons, all snuck, and managed to get two cartons of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, pumpkin , and many, many chocolate frogs.

Danny had the beans first. Ron could not help but begin laughing uproariously. Shrugging it off and chalking it up to a random hilarious memory, Danny jiggled the box as seven jelly beans rolled out. One was a rather interesting shade of gray, another was a nasty yellow, the third was a pale green, the fourth was clear (thus making it hard to identify), the fifth was a milky brown, the sixth was black striped with yellow, and the last was a very light tan. He picked up the milky brown one and popped it into his mouth, sucking on it to derive the least amount of flavor.

"Hmm…" he said in thought. He grinned and chewed it. "Caramel." Ron stopped laughing but stared at the beans in his hand and began laughing uncontrollably again.

"What's up with him?" asked Danny. Hermione waved her hand at his immaturity and told him it was just his past experiences.

"O…kay…" Danny said before popping the gray in. Soon, he coughed it out. "Damn! It tastes like _dust_!"

"It—it…" Ron tried speaking between loud chortles of laughter. "It _is_ dust!" Danny thought he misheard what he said—who the hell makes dust-flavored jelly beans?—and popped in the black and yellow one. It stung his tongue in a not-so-pleasant way.

"Oh, _ew_!" he yelled. "That thing _stung_ my tongue!"

"Hermione snatched the box and began identifying flavors.

"The one you just ate was wasp, the gray is dust, the first is caramel, the yellow is mucus, the clear one is air, the green one is unripe berry, and the tan one is bread." She threw it back at him. Ron finally calmed down.

"Man, I never get tired of those things." Harry had a slightly bitter look on his face. Danny raised an eyebrow, asking silently.

"I had earwax once." Danny's eyes widened in disgust.

"…Okay, that's just nasty." Harry nodded in agreement.

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"Wormtail, have you brought me the samples?" hissed a high voice. The rather old and worn man squeaked like the mouse his Animagus form was and brought forth the samples of which his master spoke.

"Yes, sir," he said quietly, dropping the items. On the table were two locks of black hair. He smiled, his pasty white face and red slit-eyes looking up with pure malevolence.

"Move back, Wormtail…this is a highly complicated spell…" whispered the man, his long, bony tendrils called fingers wrapping themselves around his wand.

"_Shas bohdet bohlna vsem. S ehtam, mih nachehm novih denh." _He spoke in a cold, low whisper as a jet of pure darkness shot out of the wand and onto the black locks of hair. They began to glow, and settled down, the complicated spell settling in the strands.

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Just as all of them were getting into an enjoyable discussion, Harry's scar began to burn. He made a small noise, clutching his hand hard against the cut, but it caused so much pain he thought it might have burst open.

Danny didn't understand what was going on. He could heal him, he had training about a year back from a healing ghost! He was about to jump to him, but Hermione stopped him. Of course, she didn't really do much because soon enough, Danny was in just as much pain, if not more.

Chapter 6

Chapter 7: sometime

Wow. Here we come, my subplots showing up. I hope someone's been reading the original, because those people would know who this mysterious figure. Some people who know Russian might understand what I wrote there. I love that advantage…heh.

**NOTE: Hereon in, all stories will be typed up before updates. Sorry, but all of CoTF will be typed up and revised and made pretty before a new update. So that means more quality for you, and quicker updates later. **


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